1978
by K. East
Summary: For a moment they only breathed, looking at each other. There was resent in his eyes and in hers. And then he said angrily, “I was in love with you and you know it.” James/Lily.


_1978_

There were exactly twelve minutes until the dinner hour was over and students would come streaming, like satiated little lambs, out of the grand eating hall. Somewhere in the back of Lily Evans's mind she registered this, managing to sneak a peek at the big clock above the door, but there was really nothing she could do about it at this point.

There was nothing she could do about it because, at that very moment, one James Potter was leaning over her, one hand against the wall and one behind his back, looking at her, and when James Potter looks at a girl she's got no chance at all of escaping.

"What?" he said slowly, noticing her hesitation. She took a deep breath and realized, upon exhaling, that she was shivering – the Lord knew why.

"Nothing at all," she said.

James tilted his head, and he was beautiful for a moment: His eyes were dark, creamy hazel, a color she'd honestly admired for some time now, and despite the thinness of his face and nose and the chaos which was his hair, every once in awhile (like now) he could pull off casually handsome.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she slipped away from him.

"You look scared," he accused.

Lily shrugged, glancing again at the clock. "People will be finishing dinner soon," she said. "Maybe we oughtn't be here. They'd get the wrong idea."

"What's that?" he said. "That we're here, by the entrance hall, skipping dinner just to stare at each other instead?"

The way he said _stare at each other_ sent chills of excitement down Lily's spine. Of course that's not all they had been doing.

"Yes," she said instead.

"That seems like the right idea to me."

"I'd rather this be private," she told him slowly. "You know, like what we talked about."

As she said that all the lines of James's body seemed to change, stiffer and more awkward and more unpleasant. He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

There were exactly nine minutes until dinner hour was over. James kissed her and took off.

Lily was just a girl.

And James was just a boy.

A lonely girl, perhaps, the kind of girl everyone quite liked yet who never had close friends, but still just a girl; and a funny boy, an entertainer, a ringleader, but just as lonely at the end of the day. And still just a boy.

And who knows, maybe if they'd met each other some other way, like in the queue at a coffee shop or accidentally running into each other in the corridor, then things would've turned out differently and it would've been okay. They wouldn't have had that initial conflict, that confusion, that taboo. And without that taboo, perhaps, they would've been friends and that would've been the end of it.

But Lily and James didn't meet in the queue or in the corridor or anywhere particularly pleasant, and it was a long time between their meeting and any event of significance.

He couldn't quite remember how it got started.

She remembered it _exactly_.

--

_1973_

It began on a Wednesday.

The most important days of a person's life can never be forgotten. For example, Lily was absolutely certain that she had declined to kiss Severus Snape on August 14th, 1973. She had been thirteen and on the cusp of womanhood, and the last person any almost-woman wanted to kiss in the year 1973 was Severus.

Not to say they weren't friends afterwards; in fact, they most definitely were, and if they hadn't, then this very important Wednesday would have just been, well, an ordinary Wednesday.

To begin, Severus was walking with her to the lake.

The lake was a large, shining black thing in the middle of the grounds, enticing and intriguing and positively magnetic. Students often gathered by its edge to talk and unwind.

On that Wednesday, the sky was fresh and blue, the autumn air was crisp, and it was perfect.

"I heard Janus Goldstein is dating Avery now," Lily said lightheartedly, sticking her hands in the pockets of her cloak. She kicked a rock on the path, and it skipped a few yards before bouncing to a stop.

"Yeah, it's a bit weird," Severus replied after a moment. His voice was distant, faraway, as if there were other things on his mind. "They're always snogging in the common room… he reckons they'll do it soon."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, she's fifteen. And he's only thirteen."

"He turned fourteen last week."

"Still, it's gross," she declared. "People in our year are way too young to have sex."

Severus shrugged, not entirely devoted to the subject. "We're teenage boys," he told her. "What do you expect?"

She smiled a tilted smile at him. "I expect you'll all go off and fancy girls like Janus Goldstein while I go moldy in the corner."

He pointed out, "_You're_ a girl like Janus Goldstein."

"What, a scarlet woman?"

"No, you're popular. And, er, pretty."

She shrugged amiably. "Not in a way that it'll get me anywhere. I doubt any boys like me."

"Loads of boys like you," Severus said, and then immediately seemed to regret this. She fortunately missed this and trotted to the end of the path, where a group of students were playing with Frisbees.

"Whoa, bugger!"

The first thing Lily registered as she reached the lake's edge was those words.

The second thing was the sensation of being plunged sideways into ice-cold water, the wind being knocked out of her. She swallowed a lungful of lake before bouncing back up to the surface, flailing and coughing and screaming. Her robes were soaked and heavy.

"Jesus, James!"

Someone grabbed her hands and yanked her out, painfully, onto the muddy shore. For a moment she sat on her bum and tried to catch her breath. And then she started screaming again.

"Who the hell just pushed me into the ruddy lake?!"

"I'm sorry!" said a voice above her, and she looked up. He was a thin, black-haired boy with specs perched on his nose and a pained look on his face. His shoulders shook as he held back laughter. "It was an accident, I s-swear –"

"Are you okay?" asked Severus worriedly.

She crawled awkwardly to her feet and, disregarding her friend, looked at the stranger in disbelief, shivering and glaring alternately. "And _who_," she demanded, "are _you_?"

"Er, James Potter," he said as if this should be quite obvious. He glanced back at his mates – three of them – who looked a little embarrassed. Behind her, Severus made a noise of disapproval.

"You ruined my robes, James Potter," she told him sourly, but the effect was somewhat ruined as she kept trembling. The thin boy ceased laughing and gave her a little frown.

"I said sorry," he said childishly, but he was already removing his heavy cloak. "Here, take mine."

Lily scoffed. "No," she declared through chattering teeth. "If you think I'll wear that after you so rudely shoved me into the _freezing lake_, you're sorely mistaken."

His face fell.

"And besides, you're so thin, no one wants to see you without a cloak," she said a little cruelly, and turned on her heel. "Come on, Sev, let's go inside before I get pneumonia."

Severus obliged, and the boy was left standing there with his cloak in hand.

"What the fuck's pneumonia?" he said as if he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

So Lily instantly hated James Potter. And, well, he wasn't too fond of her either.

--

_1978_

There was something funny about the way he was looking at her that day. Maybe it was more than usual, or less than usual, or he wore a different expression, or – or something. Lily couldn't be sure. She'd tried to ignore his looking at her, but for some reason _today_ it was quite impossible.

She couldn't exactly say anything to him about it – they were in the middle of Potions class, and she was leaning over a cauldron and trying to brew a sleeping draught. Yet through the smoke and mist filling the room she could see those eyes, and the face and body that went with them, all focused on her.

Like she was the only person in the room.

But she _wasn't_ the only person in the room, and that was the important thing, and so she had to shake off this thought before it was too late – before she did something she would regret –

"Hi, Evans?"

She flinched.

James was standing in front of her now, wearing the neutral expression he always did when they interacted in public. It'd been like this for years now, a totally blank face, a totally useless acquaintanceship. Completely ingenuous.

"Yes?" she tried to say, her stomach stirring.

"I need to see you later," he said, and those words sent a bolt of adrenaline through her ribcage. "To ask you about the prefect meeting, you know."

"Oh – of course," she stammered. "Erm – six o' clock?"

"During dinner hour?" He appeared skeptical. He was a very good actor, she had to give him that.

"Then – how about eight?" she suggested, and something flickered in his expression, something indeterminable. The girls next to her didn't notice, but they giggled anyway and nudged Lily with their elbows.

After a tense moment, James nodded. "Eight is perfect," he said, and moved off.

--

_1976_

March came in like a lamb.

Students were finally finished stressing over the OWL exams, which is to say the poor fifth years who had been extended beyond comprehension were suddenly assaulted with an unprecedented amount of free time.

And, like everyone else, Lily was taking full advantage of that time. On this particular day, she was lounging on the sofa in the common room, her right hand dangling off the side as one of her friends, Emmeline, painted her nails.

Emmeline was two years older than Lily and very, very talented when it came to manicures. She had already invested several hours into decorating the nails of all the girls in the common room, and it was an interesting experience too, because she was quite the gossip.

"I heard Janus dumped Peter," she chatted amiably. Lily, who was reading a novel, glanced down at where her friend sat cross-legged on the floor.

"How sad," she said. "I always thought he liked her more than she liked him."

"Yes. I don't want to be mean, of course, but they weren't the best match anyway."

Lily nodded absently.

"Hey! Have you heard?" Emmeline screwed on the cap to a bottle of polish and looked up.

"Heard what?"

"There's a rumor going around that James is going to ask you out."

Lily jumped, nearly ruining her nails. "James who?"

"James Potter… who else?"

She stammered, "But…but why would he?"

"I know, I know," Emmeline agreed, shaking her head. "I mean, for goodness sakes! You hate him!"

The redhead, closing her book suddenly, sat straight up. "I mean… yeah," she said after a moment. "That's right."

"But I'm fairly sure it's true. I heard it from Mary, and she heard it from Janus, who heard it from Peter before she dumped him."

Lily nodded, an odd feeling rising in her chest.

"Although it must be nice having the funniest guy in the school fancying you," Emmeline sighed, and then she too sat up a little straighter, and fixed her friend with a curious little look, and asked, "You _are_ going to say no, aren't you?"

"What? Of course," the redhead responded with a touch of indignation. "It's just as you said. I hate him."

--

_1978_

At eight o' clock, James Potter slipped, unnoticed, into a very inconspicuous room on the seventh floor. He waited silently.

Then at eight-five, the door opened and in came Lily, her hair pulled up in a tight ponytail and her face erased of makeup, and she felt so vulnerable then that it almost hurt. The way he looked at her did not help.

"Hey," he said, moving forward, and she didn't even pull back this time, letting him gently brush her shoulders, her waist, her hips. When he did this it was like he was memorizing her outline, memorizing her, and she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't bothered to memorize _him._

"Hey to you, too," she murmured.

He kissed her.

"I skipped Quidditch to be here," he said, gesturing slightly to the room. It was small and rather nondescript, except for a low sofa pushed against one wall, some tables, and a few bookshelves filled with such titles as _The Ordinary Witch and Wizard_ and _Love For People Like You_.

She saw this and tugged slightly away, saying, "I thought you wanted to discuss the prefect meeting…"

"We can discuss it later," he responded, kissing her again. She closed her eyes briefly against his skin and returned the gesture.

"You don't have to miss out on sports because of me," she whispered thinly.

"But I do," James said; he trailed a finger across her jaw. "I don't get to be with you that often."

Now Lily really did pull away, and she sat down on the sofa with her eyes downcast. She was shivering again. It wasn't even cold.

"James," she started.

"Lily."

"I think we need to talk about this," she said.

He shook his head.

"No?"

He shook his head again.

She sighed and brought her legs up to her chest as he sat beside her, looking slightly concerned. Her heart beat a little too quickly, and goose bumps were raised up on her skin. There was a stab of worry in her chest. "I guess we have to figure out where we are right now," she said.

"I know wherever we are, it's not in a relationship," he replied, a little bitterly.

Lily nodded.

"I don't see why not," he said.

"It's…complicated," she said.

"Complicated?" James ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Everything's complicated, Lily. Life's complicated. What could possibly be so complicated that we're stuck in this impasse?"

"I don't know," she said a little hopelessly, desperately. How could she find the words? There was nothing, she felt that could describe the conflict she was feeling.

He shifted away from her then, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw line hard. "Why'd you come?"

Lily couldn't answer.

"You said eight," he said slowly, softly. "I thought that meant…"

"I thought so too," she told him.

"Then why -?"

"I just don't think I'm ready for this," she said, and James didn't move. He just sat there, staring at her, waiting for an explanation. "Not just…what we came here for, but… but everything. I'm so in over my head right now."

He scoffed: "Come on, Lily, this has been in the making for four years now. Everyone's been expecting it anyway – how can you be surprised?"

She shook her head. "No, not everyone's been expecting it. _No one's_ been expecting it. I'm not ready to turn them all upside down."

"So what are you saying?" he asked. "That's it's not okay for me to be attracted to you?"

"No –"

"Or to want to be around you? It's not okay to like your company, is that what you're saying?"

"No, James, I just –" she hesitated, then took a breath. "I don't know what I'm saying. I really don't."

"I know a breakup speech when I hear one," he told her flatly, getting up. This sent an odd sensation through her heart and her throat, coursing through her lungs. A settling feeling, like they were finally on the same page. And yet she felt displaced.

"I'm sorry," she said, but this didn't ease her guilt.

He shrugged and rumpled his hair again, far too casual for the weight of the conversation. "I just needed to hear it straight-out, what you wanted," he said. And then he left the room.

--

_1976_

"Evans?"

"Go away."

"Come on, Evans."

"Leave me alone, you pig."

"I'm sorry," James said, and this was what got Lily's attention. He was standing somewhat awkwardly in the door to the Astronomy Tower's balcony, his hands crossed over his chest as he shivered.

She pulled her cloak around her more tightly.

"What do you want?" she finally said, her voice hoarse.

"Just to apologize," he said, venturing a little closer. She snapped away, like a deer shaking off a fly, and he stopped in his tracks. She didn't turn to look at him.

"Well, you're a bit late," she replied bitterly, rubbing her eyes. There was silence from behind her, and though she hoped he'd changed his mind and left, she also knew this was highly unlikely. "I just –" She stumbled over her words.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evans, I –" Then he hesitated. "_Lily_," he said slowly, "What happened outside – that's the not the way I meant to come off, you know? It sort of slipped…"

Lily snorted. "Yeah, that's what Severus said too."

"Look, I'm _nothing_ like him," James added fiercely, remembering her earlier comment. "I would _never_ treat you that way if I was your friend. And I want to be your friend, Lily, I really do –"

She turned around. "You _do_ treat me that way," she replied angrily, balling her hands into fists. "Hexing one of my best friends, trying to blackmail me into dating you, humiliating me in front of everyone –"

"You call that humiliating?" he scoffed, though his eyes shone with hurt. "How about having the girl you really, really fancy telling you in front of everyone that she'd rather date the Giant Squid?"

"Just leave me alone, Potter," she said coolly.

"No. You're so frustrating. I'm sorry if I didn't ask you out in the way you wanted me to, but I meant it. I want to go on a date with you."

"The way I wanted you to?" Lily repeated. "You're assuming I _did_ want you to, which, for the record, I didn't. In fact, I _loathe_ you, and my day's terrible enough right now without you butting into it even more."

James was silent for a minute.

"Fine," he said flatly. "Whatever."

--

_1978_

"What the hell are you doing?" Lily demanded as she slammed the door behind her. The noise echoed throughout the prefects' bathroom and, for a moment, James stood stock-still in the center.

Then he gathered his wits about him and said, a bit coldly, "I was about to take a bath. Is that not allowed?"

"You know that's not what I mean," she said, ignoring the absurdity of the situation. He had his towel in his hand and presumably was about to unbutton his shirt – the water was even running. The fact that she'd actually followed him into the bathroom didn't faze her.

"Then whatever do you mean, darling Evans?" he responded snidely, tossing his towel onto the countertop. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You and Janus Goldstein?"

He shrugged, but his eyes were dark. "Yeah. So what?"

"Well, isn't that a match made in heaven."

"What, and you thought _we_ were?" He closed the distance between them and, towering over her, said roughly, "I can date whomever I want, Lily. It has nothing to do with you."

"You think Janus is a floozy and you've said so before," she spat back in his face.

He straightened up. "I don't. She's nice."

"She is not."

"Are you saying you've intruded on my limited free time to insult my new girlfriend?"

Lily turned back to the door, turning the handle fiercely. "Whatever," she said aggressively. "You want to taunt me? Go ahead and do it. I don't care."

She was halfway out when his fingers closed around her wrist, and he pulled her back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

For a moment they only breathed, looking at each other. There was resent in his eyes and in hers. And then he said angrily, "I was in love with you and you know it."

"It's been three bloody weeks," she replied, yanking her wrist from his grip; her skin was hot where his touch had been. "That seems pretty irrelevant."

Actually, she hadn't known.

Her gut twisted.

"So _yeah_, I'm going to taunt you," he said. "I'm going to get Janus, and I'm going to snog the fuck out of her right in front of you. Right in front of everyone. And you know what? I can fucking do it, because _you_ don't have any control over what I do, okay?"

"Whatever," she said again, but her resolve was a bit weaker this time.

"I hope it hurts," he told her, his voice cracking. "Because you sure as hell hurt _me_, Lily."

She was silent.

"Fuck this," he finally said, and he turned away, and it seemed there was nothing left to do but leave.

--

_1977_

"Hey."

Lily looked up from her magazine. "Oh," she said. "Hey."

Honestly, the last person she wanted to see at that moment in time was James Potter. She hadn't spoken to him since the end of fifth year, and now here he was, gripping the compartment door tightly as the Hogwarts Express rolled and rattled back to London. It was April.

"Can I sit here?" he asked politely. "The others are full."

"Yeah," she replied, moving her belongings so he could settle on the seat across from her. "Where're your friends?"

"They're staying at school for Easter," he said after a moment. He looked at her.

She gave a small smile of acknowledgement and went back to her magazine, focusing twice as hard in the hopes that she could pretend, just for a few hours, that nothing existed outside of _Witch Weekly_. It wasn't working.

"Evans?" James's voice permeated her thoughts; it was so tentative and soft that it surprised her, because there were few moments when this bold, vibrant boy sounded so unsure. When she looked up, he was still looking at her with an indeterminable expression.

"Erm… yeah?" she prompted.

"Can I… ask you something?"

Her heart missed a beat. "Yeah," she said again, feeling shivers in her spine. It was a familiar sensation, one she hadn't experienced since March of last year…

James rumpled his hair. Lily had come to learn it was a nervous habit, not a purposeful action as she'd once accused, and a tiny pang of guilt ran through her.

"Did you…" he hesitated. "Last year, did you…"

She was silent.

"Shit, I dunno," he said after a while, following this with an anxious laugh. "I was about to ask you if you'd ever fancied me. Stupid question, right?"

Lily sucked in a breath. A year of silence. A full year. And now here he was, the same boy she'd known and yet different – like something, something vital and important, had changed in him – but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

And here he was, asking the question no one had ever bothered to ask.

"You're probably really annoyed," he said quickly, interpreting her silence as denial, and he got up shakily. "I'll go –"

"No, it's okay," she said, surprising herself. James's face went blank with bemusement. "Sit down. The other compartments are full, right?"

"Erm… yes," he answered, sitting back down. He fidgeted, his brow drawn as he tried to interpret this development. "Yes, they are."

Lily shrugged. "So stay."

On the outside, perhaps, she was casual, calm. But on the inside she was shocked – those two words, no matter how simple, had made her felt, suddenly, more vulnerable than she'd ever been. _She was asking him to stay._

Neither of them spoke on the way to London. Nothing needed to be said.

--

_1978_

Sirius Black was looking intently into Lily's eyes. Neither moved. And then, unblinkingly, he said, "So."

"So," she said back.

"Is there anything you'd like to say?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Lily looked around. She was perched on the sofa in the common room with a leg folded beneath her, and she'd been peacefully reading until Sirius had drawn up a chair and silently initiated some sort of staring contest. She closed her book and sighed.

"Is there something I'm meant to be saying, Black?" she prompted patiently.

"Well," he said with a touch of thoughtfulness, "I thought you might have an opinion on James."

She didn't bat an eyelid, but her heart raced at his name. "And I'm supposed to know this from your staring at me?" she asked sarcastically, nearly stumbling over her words with nervousness.

Sirius shrugged. The eighteen year-old boy seemed, at first, quite similar to James. But in knowing them Lily had come to learn that Sirius was a lot more laid-back, a lot less serious than his counterpart.

Sometimes she didn't know whether she liked this or not.

"If you've something to say, then by all means say it," she finally said, taking his silence in stride, and she opened up her book again. But he beat her to it.

"Actually, yes, Evans, I do have something to say."

She lifted her eyebrows and waited.

"I think," he said slowly and with fake consideration, "that you and James are – in fact – _involved_."

"Involved," she repeated tonelessly.

He nodded, and then a half-smile crept uncontrollably onto his face. Lily shut her book loudly and stood up to leave.

"Right, I get it, you're mocking me. Congratulations, you win."

"Hey, Evans, don't leave just yet," he said, and though the words themselves were as light-hearted as usual, there was a change in his tone that made her pause mid-stride.

Lily turned around. "What?" she said finally.

Sirius's smile was gone. "He hates Janus Goldstein," he confessed in a low tone. "He hates all the girls he's tried to be with since you. He's depressed. I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I," she told him, and sat back down.

--

_1977_

"And this," James finished, "is our favorite. It's on the fourth floor, right behind that tapestry of Megrim the Malevolent. See, we've figured it out so we can time our departure before Filch finishes his rounds."

He was drawing his wand across a crisp square of parchment, not paying as much attention to what he was pointing out as he was to the redheaded girl who sat next to him, immensely intrigued. She touched the map hesitantly, tracing a line with her fingertips.

"Wow," she said finally. "That's brilliant magic."

"Thanks," he said with a mix of pride and embarrassment. Lily noticed his cheeks go slightly pink, and then so did hers, and they both pretended not to look at each other for a minute.

Their connection thus far had been tenuous, a delicate and wavering strand of goodwill. And here alone in the library, the night pushing onwards, they were just tired enough not to care what people thought of them.

James folded up his treasured map and shoved into his pocket. And then he looked at Lily, and she shifted under his gaze, because not since 1976 had she felt comfortable with the way he looked at her.

"It's getting late," he said finally, and her heart sank.

"Yeah."

"Come on, we can walk back together," the boy suggested, and she could only silently follow as he stood and weaved his way around tables and out of the library. He walked slightly ahead of her, his strides long, and she stretched to catch up, but James seemed determined to set a fast pace.

"Slow down," she said finally, reaching for him. Her fingertips brushed his wrist and he turned around, startled, and there was a beat of hesitation in which they just stared at each other.

And then he was close to her, terribly close, and his lips were pressed desperately against hers, if only for a second, and that same whisper-thin truce, forged in the quiet, broke.

And Lily was close to _him_, terribly close. And her lips were pressed desperately against _his_, if only for a second.

And she didn't care. She really didn't care.

What had remained unsaid for all these years was out in the open. Just for that fleeting moment in time, they could be honest with each other – without any words at all. The real question was, then, whether that would last.

--

_1978_

"Potter?"

Lily had never felt so anxious, in her life, to see someone turn around. And he didn't.

"Potter," she said again, the name feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. It was a good name, that was true. But this name – this name was everything to her, and yet nothing. This name was a proud young man, a teasing insult, a word in the dark. It was hazel eyes and waking up in the morning and kissing in the entrance hall.

And yet he still didn't turn around. Maybe he didn't want those things.

The classroom was full of people, and yes, a few were looking at her. It was an odd sight, the Head Girl trying to get the attention of her partner – and rival – and failing.

She let out a breath. She had to do something.

"James," she finally said, softly, and it was in the voice she'd always reserved for him: gentle, vulnerable, and real. His shoulders, which were bent slightly over his desk as he scratched out an assignment, stiffened. And then, slowly, he turned around. His wooden chair screeched against the stone floor.

His eyes were accusing.

"Yeah?" he said quietly.

"Can I…" She hesitated, and in this brief moment she could see his hands fist up, the muscles in his jaw jump as he tensed. "…can I talk to you later?"

"I'm busy," he said coolly.

Lily's heart buckled, if that was possible, and she took a deep breath. When she let it out, it was with a shiver, one she hadn't even realized she had. "It's the weekend," she responded softly. "Please?"

James didn't reply. He just looked at her.

"I'll be in the room tonight at six," she said, and this startled her. She'd never been this bold, not in a room full of classmates who were looking at them with slight suspicion in her eyes. They didn't know, they couldn't possibly know. But they could see something was happening. Something important.

So she added, "Will you come?"

He had never left her hanging before. He was always there when she needed him; he had always agreed when she asked for him. And now here he was, not answering. And it struck Lily that James really _didn't_ want words in the dark, waking up in the morning, kissing in the hall…

Maybe he wanted something else altogether…

He opened his mouth to reply, and he said: "Yes."

--

_1977_

The sunlight crept into Lily's dormitory like a shy visitor, yellow dawn tiptoeing past the drapes. She woke almost instantly, the way a person does when she's had too much on her mind to really sleep.

Her eyes opened slowly.

"Morning," she croaked to her roommates, and none of them responded, which was perfectly okay with her. She sat up and tugged a quilt around her shoulders, cold.

It was time to face the world. To face her friends, and to face James. After what had occurred the evening before, she wasn't sure if she could.

He had kissed her so sweetly – years of pent-up emotion pouring out into that single action, like with that one action he could make up for everything that had happened in the past; but Lily knew better, and so when the kiss had ended, she'd had to say no. She'd had to do something.

It had been difficult. Painful, even. But there was a substantial, satisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach in the knowledge that she'd done right by herself.

And he'd agreed, whole-heartedly. The understanding smile, the nods of his chin; it was almost convincing.

--

_1978_

She waited anxiously, her foot tapping, her fingers curling and uncurling against her knees as she sat on the familiar sofa in a familiar room. Everything felt awkward, uncomfortable – like she couldn't be here without James, like she couldn't be herself without James.

Frankly, that thought scared the shit out of her.

Lily was, as promised, in the Come and Go Room, and what she didn't know was: at that moment, James was pacing around his dormitory, debating whether or not to come.

She was nervous.

--

_1977_

"Hey," someone mumbled into Lily's shoulder, and she curled up noiselessly under the covers, squeezing her eyes against the sun. It streamed in through a window the Come and Go Room couldn't have had, and fell harshly against the two people it shouldn't have held.

But she was already mostly awake, lingering in that place between sleep and consciousness, and she found herself burying her face in James's tousled hair, sighing.

"Hey to you, too," she whispered, and he shifted then, their clothes rustling against each other's ingenuously. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pressed his lips, gently, on her jawbone.

So much for doing right by herself.

Their arms and legs were entwined, their bodies caught in a drowsy sort of hug as he, too, sighed and snuggled back against the pillow, closing his eyes. "Can we never leave?" he asked softly.

"We have to," Lily said, her voice soft. Her insides melted at his sweetness, and she knew she would never forget this – letting him hold her like this, like nothing – not even their supposed rivalry – mattered.

--

_1978_

_He_ was angry.

James had decided. And he strode out of his dormitory, loosening his tie frustratedly, and he stormed into the room looking like a man set out to kill. She crossed the room to where he was, and -

And he said to her, "Let's get this over with."

He swiftly and fiercely pressed his mouth to hers, sliding a hand up to the nape of her neck, pushing his body into hers. She stumbled backward and away from this unexpected kiss, stuttering and trying to catch her breath.

"What?" Lily managed to get out, her face beet-red. "What are you doing?"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked aggressively, not moving from his place. His hands were shaking badly.

"No!" She brought her fingertips to her lips, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Her heart pummeled against her ribcage, her body protested for more, and every vein in her body was shot through with adrenaline. "I – why would you think –"

"You asked me to come to the room," James reminded her, his eyes dark and angry. "You know just how it is, don't you? I'm your booty call. I can't fucking say no."

She was at a loss for words. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"So here I am," he continued bitterly, holding his arms out wide. "Why don't you just screw me so you can get back to your wonderful life?"

"James," she said.

"What, Lily?" he snapped. "Am I too crude for you? Guess what- I don't give a _shit_."

"_James_," she said again, desperately, and he let out a strangled noise of anger and kicked the wall. It didn't help except make him seemingly more frustrated, and scaring her so that tears pricked at her eyes.

He clenched his fists after seeing this, and took a deep breath.

"I tried to be mature about this," he said finally, a bit more controlled. "But you're driving me crazy."

"I… I know," she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but at him.

James didn't respond to this. He gritted his teeth and asked instead, "Why are we here, Lily? What could be so bloody important that you have to do this to me?"

She couldn't help it. A few hot tears emerged, but she wiped them away quickly, clearing her throat and trying to compose herself. "I h-had to apologize."

"Apologize?" He scoffed. "For what?"

"For – everything," she said weakly. "For…"

"You don't get it," he replied, raking his hands through his hair. "You don't fucking get it."

"Then tell me," she pleaded.

James's eyes focused on her then, sharp and dark and bitter. He told her, "I took a leap. I told you how I felt about you, and you crushed me. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Lily took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," she said. But it felt empty, tossed to the wind, unheard.

"I thought," he said, his voice a little softer, "that we were real."

"We were."

"You made it seem otherwise," he responded shakily, turning his eyes to the ceiling. He was still trembling. "I should've known you weren't on the same page. But I thought that we could – that if I waited long enough –"

"James, I –" But she couldn't find words then. What he was saying was true. They'd never been on the same page. He'd wanted everything, and she'd just wanted to be with him, without the stigma.

He gazed at her, waiting.

She hesitated, then quietly took a seat on the sofa, not looking at him. Her hands cradled her head. "I really am in love with you," she whispered.

"I know," he said, standing stock-still in front of her.

She swallowed, not looking up. Her ribs moved out and in a little too quickly as she breathed. "So why do I feel like something's stopping me?" she asked desperately.

There was a very long silence. Slowly James crossed the room to join her. "I don't know," he said finally.

Maybe if they'd met each other some other way, like in a queue, or in the corridor, then things would've turned out differently and it would've been okay. Then, perhaps, they would've just been friends.

And that would've been the end of it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This was a very whimsical piece for me, not a lot of editing done, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Please review- it'd be really helpful to me as a writer, and of course I'd be eternally grateful. :]


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